


Bound By the Earth

by Curvynpervy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Sense8 AU, its a mess, its actually a sense9 but shhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curvynpervy/pseuds/Curvynpervy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>9 strangers from around the world are thrust together, allowing them to see each other and feel each others presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a mess but questions will mostly be answered eventually

Courfeyrac was already running late as was. Having to change his tie because of a dark Africa shaped coffee stain and being unable to find the keys sitting next to the sink had seen to it that his morning was a stressful one. 

"Marius!" He called, grabbing his coffee with one hand and beginning the daily balancing act with his briefcase and keys. "I'm leaving, I'll be seeing you tonight!" 

He heard a muffled response just as the door clicked behind him and he made his way to the parking garage. The air was chilled and stagnant, and the concrete was damp from morning dew. 

He looked down for a moment to check if he'd forgotten anything. When he looked up, a woman was standing in the middle of the aisle, wearing a crumpled paper hospital gown and a gentle smile. 

"Uh, excuse me?" He called out, but she game no responce. A car pulled out into the asile, driving away from him and toward her. By the time the tail lights rounded the corner the woman and all traces of her were gone. 

Courfeyrac wanted to wait another moment, but his watch was telling him not to, so he hurried to his car, shoving his things in the back seat and driving out of the ramp. He wasn't fully aware of doing it, but as he drove out he was looking for the woman. 

 

 

"One more!" The man in the barstool next to Grantaire called out to the bartender, and Grantaire could tell right away that the man did not need one more at all. 

"I think you're done for the night, buddy" the bartender reasoned. He looked ready to start an argument or even physically handle the man out of his bar. 

"I'll tell you when I'm done!" The other man pounded his hand on the bar comically. 

"Actually, I don't need you to tell me, I know exactly what too much looks like, it's kind of my job." 

The man gave the bartender a dirty look, then shifted it to Grantaire as he slid off the stool. Grantaire waited until the door closed before he burst into laughter, followed by the bartender. 

"Do you get that a lot?" Grantaire asked. 

"Not too often, but I do get him a lot." The bartender answered. "Can I do anything for ya?" 

Grantaire's eyes drifted from the man's full lips to his arms trying to rip the tee shirt sleeves they'd been bound by and thought of a number of flirty come backs, but he had to pick one. 

"You could tell me when your shift ends." Grantaire smirked, he knew he wasn't the most conventionally attractive, but he did know how to seduce.

The bar was empty besides them and Jack Daniels, and it was 1am, a perfectly reasonable last call time. The bartender untied his apron and tossed it on the counter. 

"It can be right now." He said. He started making his way around he counter.

Soon they were both out in the cool night air, grantaire being pushed against the wall while dirty and unspeakable things were being done to his tongue by the guys mouth. He let out a choked whine when he felt the pressure of hands squeezing his ass harshly. 

The guy's mouth moved, leaving Grantaire's lips feeling used and abused. The abuser moved down to his neck, threatening to give it the same treatment. Grantaire rested his head back against the cold, damp bricks and let his eyes relax open. 

He saw a woman, standing barefoot in the middle of the street with her hair chopped short. She was smiling peacefully at him as his skin was marked and nipped at. 

"Hey, wow." Grantaire grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, trying to keep eyes on the woman the whole time, but losing her when the guy took up his entire field of view. 

"What's wrong?" He asked in a genuinely concerned voice. Grantaire almost felt bad for leaving this at a one night stand.

"I... I thought I saw something." Grantaire mutters, returning his eyes to the exact spot the woman had been. She wasn't there, so he chalked it up to his mind playing games with him. 

He had to stop thinking about it though, because of the hand rubbing over his zipper. 

 

Bossuet had had a long day, but now the sun was setting and he was ready for the his favorite part of every day, whether it had worn on him or not. 

"Hi." Joly said, already sitting at Bossuet's kitchen table. 

"Good afternoon, Joly." Bossuet said, checking his fridge for anything new. There wasn't anything in his fridge, but Joly had a new, bright colored treat.

"What's this?" Bossuet asked, looking back at Joly. 

Joly looked up from his laptop and Bossuet's table and explained it was something new at the market that he wanted to try. Bossuet nodded, taking an apple from his own fridge and sitting across from Joly. 

"Do you ever think, that there might be someone else out there like us?" 

Joly quirked his lips and shrugged. "If there are, I've never been near one, so I can't see what the point in wondering is." 

"Oh c'mon," Bossuet whined. "I'm in Australia and you're in Japan, yet you're also sitting right across from me. That's got to mean something to someone else somewhere." 

"You're just my imaginary friend, remember?" Joly winked, referring to when they'd first brought up the other kid that only they could see. Joly's parents had simply brushed off the Australian boy as a product of his imagination, perhaps the result of watching too much TV. Bossuet's mother had said it must be his guardian angel, and while Joly was an angel in Bossuet's eyes, he wasn't very good at being a guardian. Eventually they'd stopped talking about the other boy, and accepted that they were connected. 

In the same instant, Bossuet looked out onto Joly's 12th floor balcony and Joly looked out Bossuet's kitchen window, both seeing a pale woman with a kind demeanor staring back at them. Not just one of them, but both of them. They looked back at each other, shocked and confused. 

"Did you see...?" Joly asked, and Bossuet nodded a response. 

"Woah" Bossuet said, dumbfounded. 

 

Combeferre had been working for 9 hours, and he still had 3 to go. He stopped by the nurses stand for a moment to lament on this fact before heading back to do his rounds. 

As he walked, he passed a room that should have been empty. Instead, a woman laid on the bed, wearing a hospital nightgown, and simply smiling at him. He turned back to the nurses station. 

"Excuse me, nurse. Who's in room 316?" He asked casually. 

The nurse tapped a few numbers into the system. "That room is empty." 

"I just saw a patient in that room. Laying on the bed." 

The nurse gave a shocked look and stood up. Together they rushed back to the room in question, only to find the bed neatly made and no sign of any occupants. 

"I swore I just saw..." Combeferre muttered, trying to figure out what it was he saw. 

"What did they look like?" The nurse asked, ready to put out a warning. 

"Short hair, pale, she was bone thin." Combeferre said quickly. 

The nurse scoffed at him, crossing her arms. "Well, there's no one on this floor by that description."

"But how could you know-"

"There are 10 patients on this floor, and none of them match that. There's no way that a patient could get on a different floor without being noticed, let alone getting into a room" 

She seemed to sense the despair that Combeferre was feeling, because she put a hand on his arm, lowering her voice. 

"You're tired, you've been working too hard, it's not a big deal." 

Combeferre blinked at her and nodded. Wishing he could believe her. 

 

"I brought candy." Cosette announced from Feuilly's open window. Feuilly, who'd been putting away his things and thinking about going to bed early, turned to find her out of breath, holding out a bag and offering a grin. 

"One of these days you're gonna get caught." He chastised like he always did. Refusing the candy twice before giving in. They both settled on his rug and ate the candy with a relaxed happiness. 

"Why don't you just stay in one small area like every other girl?" He asked, referring to the fact that she'd climbed buildings and run along the tops of walls to get to his place. 

"I'm not like every other girl." She responded, looking over Facebook. "I'm a cool girl. I like hanging with the bros and getting uh... Turned down."

They both laughed, trying not to be too loud and have the neighbors hear the both of them. 

"Maybe I'll take you out with me sometime." Cosette gested. Feuilly smiled nervously. She'd brought it up before that he should learn parkour, but he'd always been way too afraid to actually go through with it. Something about jumping with tall buildings or doing back flips on concrete kind of... unsettled him. 

When they'd finished their candy, Feuilly insisted that Cosette spend the night, instead she opted to get home. 

"If I could make it here, I can make it back." She assured him. 

"It's not you I'm worried about. It's everyone else." 

She rolled her eyes and gave him a final smile before jumping back out his window and disappearing into the night. As Feuilly watched from his window, he saw another woman on the roof top. He was surprised, considering Cosette was one of only a few who were willing to run about the town leaping over benches and bushes. Then he noticed that she had bare legs, and no head covering. He didn't call out, afraid of attracting attention to the woman. Instead he looked around, trying to figure out if anyone else had seen her. 

By the time he looked back up, she was gone.

 

"Oh Jehan," Montparnasse crooned. 

Jehan groaned and opened his eyes. Montparnasse stood over him, looking as sympathetic as he could. And that wasn't much. Jehan sat up, trying to figure out where he was. 

There were trees above him and a cool night breeze brushed over his skin. 

"You fell asleep in the garden again, dofus." Montparnasse said, picking up Jehan's journal and pen which had been cast aside when he'd fallen asleep. 

Jehan yawned and took Montparnasse's outstretched hand, brushing the dirt off his clothing as he got up. 

"Let's get you home." Montparnasse said kindly.

They hobbled down the road, Montparnasse with an arm around Jehan and Jehan with his journal clutched to his chest. As they waited for the light to change, Jehan caught a glimpse of a woman, young, strikingly beautiful, but wearing a hospital gown that reached to her knees. She was gone with the passing of a car, and then their light changed and Jehan couldn't dwell on the strange sighting any longer. 

 

Bahorel felt a hand on his knee and the soft breath of a whisper in his ear, yet he was completely oblivious. Rather than pay attention to the girl sitting next to him in the booth, he was paying attention to Eponine, currently getting hit on at the bar. And currently enjoying it. 

Through the fog of the drugs, he could remember promising Gavroche that he'd watch out for his sister since he couldn't come along. He remembered the legally binding fist bump, and he remembered the taste of Eponine's lips... No wait, that's the girl sitting next to him moving from next to him to on top of him. 

He hoped she wouldn't try any farther, or else he'd have to let her down. Over one tattooed and exposed shoulder, he could see Eponine, flirting back. He knew she would flirt, but she wouldn't actually do anything. It was a habit that got her in quite a few bad situations. But he was always around to stop whatever it was. 

"Here." The girl offered him a drink from the table, and he thought for longer than a sober man would, and decided not to take the chance. 

She frowned and settled for gnawing on his neck, clearly trying to leave a bruise. 

Suddenly Eponine was pushing the guy away. And then he was pushing her back. And Bahorel was pushing the girl off his lap. He got there just in time for a fist to collide with Eponine's face. 

Watching her drop, he turned on the guy, fists blazing and doing the other guy in worse. Once it was clear that he wasn't going to fight anymore, Bahorel turned to find Eponine back on her narrow heels, her lip split and bleeding. 

"Come here." Bahorel said, taking her hand. He lead her back through a narrow hallway where he grabbed a small box and then continued up a flight of stairs until they were on the roof. 

The adrenaline of the fight had worn away at his high, leaving him clear enough to start bandaging Eponine's lip. 

"I'm sorry." She said when she could. 

"No, it's my fault, you're hurt and I wasn't there to stop it." Bahorel said, kicking himself.

Eponine put her hand on his arm and smiled, pulling the wound on her lip taunt. 

"It's not your fault, you couldn't have done anything. Besides, I ruined your night." 

Bahorel sighed and didn't say anything. He still felt guilty, but he didn't have the strength to argue anymore, at least not with Eponine.

They sat on the roof far longer than they needed to. Eponine lit a cigarette and offered him a drag, which he refused. After that they didn't say anything. They were good at this, this comfortable silence. They'd gotten to know each other so well that there was really nothing else to talk about so they waited to face the world together. 

Bahorel heard a car horn on his left, turning towards it and finding a woman standing on the edge of the roof wearing nothing but a paper hospital gown floating in the breeze. 

He blinked, licking his dry lips and wondering if she was a result of the drugs or the alcohol, but before he could figure it out, she smiled at him and disappeared in a blink. 

 

Enjolras's alarm buzzed him awake, his back complaining the instant he tried to straighten up. He looked down at the newspaper he'd been cutting apart, deciding it was best left for another time. 

He pulled off his old shirt and pants and pulled on his work clothes. His hair had mostly fallen out of the makeshift bun, so he pulled it back and made sure to pin it up. 

He worked in a small coffee shop, one rich with loyal, daily, and demanding customers. Today he had the usual morning rush, his co worker trying his best despite being new. 

"Chai latte!" He yelled from the register. Enjolras set to work making one of the simplest orders of the morning when he saw her. Standing in the window, watching him. He paused, his hands holding a cup and a jar, watching her in the same way she watched him. 

"Enjolras. Enjolras wake up!" His coworker yelled at him, forcing him to look away from the woman. Realizing where he was, he immediately got back to the latte, trying not to focus on the line that was now building up. 

When he got a chance to look back out the window, she was long gone.


	2. The Day Ends and the Day Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel meets Combeferre in the most Groucho Marx way possible and Jehan laments on his life

Bahorel woke up with a pounding headache and nausea to boot. He kept his eyes closed for a long time, hoping that if he just laid there everything would go away. Unfortunately, Eponine was up. And so was Gavroche. 

"Bahorel," Eponine said, poking his shoulder. "Get up." 

Bahorel cracked his eyes open, groaning loudly. He felt Eponine grab his hand and put a glass in it. He held it to his parched lips and took a long drink of water. 

"I told you to drink more water." Eponine said. And he had had a glass of water with his drink, but maybe he'd only drunk half of it and then have four more drinks. 

"Thanks." He wheezed, gesturing to the glass in his hand. He forced himself to open his eyes and sit up, finding the over the counter pain pills on the side of the bed and taking three. 

Bahorel sighed and sat back against the headboard waiting for the drugs to kick in. He watched Eponine pull a tee shirt out of his drawer and slip in on over her head. It was practically a dress on her. She had a collection of clothes here at his place, but she preferred to wear his, claiming that they smelled like him. She went off, he assumed she was making breakfast, and headed to the bathroom. 

 

Combeferre was just getting home from his shift, and he figured he was just fatigued, because the headache and the nausea made him weary of everything, even going up the stairs to his apartment. He muttered how he hated night shifts as he climbed, swearing up and down that they would be the end of him. 

He made it into his apartment as the sun started to rise, heading for the bathroom. 

 

Bahorel put his hands on the either side of the sink, thinking to himself about how miserable he felt. 

Combeferre put his hands on the either side of the sink, thinking to himself about how miserable he felt. 

He leaned down to splash some water on his face, just enough to keep him awake until he could get to bed, just enough to keep him awake for breakfast. 

When he came back up, it wasn't his face in the mirror. 

Combeferre saw a stubbled, tanned man with red eyes. Bahorel saw a dreary eyed man with mint hospital scrubs on his shoulders. 

He stared at the reflected man, tilting his head. He looked down the find a bathroom sink that was not his own. And when he looked back up, the other man was gone and he was back in his own bathroom. 

Combeferre shrugged and pulled his scrubs off, figuring it was just a mild hallucination. Perhaps he'd never been this tired before. He thought about nothing more as he slipped easily into sleep. 

Bahorel wondered for a bit at his own reflection, wondering if he was still high. He certainly didn't feel it, and it certainly wouldn't make sense. 

"Hey, 'ponine?" He yelled from the bathroom door. 

"Hm?" Eponine leaned away from the pan of eggs she was making. 

"Did you get something different from your guy last night?" 

"No, same old same old." Eponine responded. 

"Huh," Bahorel said to himself, looking back at the mirror for any trace of the other man. Still, nothing. 

Bahorel overheard Eponine's phone ding, it was just her text tone, so obviously not something direly important. He dried his face, watching the mirror the whole time, and set the towel back down next to the sink. He walked out to the kitchen, taking a seat at his island and trying to assess the damage done last night. 

"My dad wants me to pick up Gavroche by noon." Eponine said, not looking away from the pan. 

Bahorel took a deep breath and got up to help her with breakfast. He knew her dad was a soft spot, well, more like a raw, aching sore. He wasn't the nicest guy, to her or to Gavroche, but there wasn't anything they could do short of taking him back to court. The first time hadn't gone well, what with the judge questioning how well the then 23-year-old Eponine could raise a 7 year old, and then asking about her relationship with Bahorel. 

For now, split custody would have to do, even if the situation was shit. 

Bahorel passed her a few plates, trying not to start a discussion about her father. 

"You don't mind do you?" Eponine asked suddenly. 

"Mind what?" Bahorel looked up from the silverware drawer and closed it with his hip. 

"Taking care of Gav? I know it's not exactly what you signed up for..." 

Bahorel let the forks clang on the counter so he could pull her hand and her attention from the panhandle. 

"I didn't sign up for anything. I just found you and kind of liked you I guess? And surprisingly enough about the whole 'like-ing' thing, it means I like all the shit you deal with too." 

Eponine held back a smile and he pulled her into the softest embrace she'd ever known. He pulled the pan off the hot stove top, setting it safely on the marble cutting board before scratching her back lightly. 

"It's gonna be ok." 

 

 

"Wakey, wakey." Montparnasse coaxed Jehan awake with the gentlest voice he could.

It always shocked Jehan when Montparnasse was kind. If the guy wasn't scamming tourists with used up disposable cameras, he was pickpocketing them. Yet when he'd laid eyes on Jehan with his gender ambiguity and poorly applied nail polish, the first thing he did was tuck a flower in behind his ear. Since then, he'd always been around when Jehan needed him. Did he know why? Nope, but with Montparnasse, he'd learned not to ask questions. 

"Good morning." Jehan said, sitting up. He vaguely remembered changing while Montparnasse handed him comfortable clothing. He was currently wearing one of Montparnasse's printed tee shirts and a pair of his shorts, both of which were too big for him.

"I saw a woman last night." Jehan said as he and Montparnasse walked back to the kitchen. There were eggs and hash browns on the stove, Montparnasse rarely cooked for himself, but for Jehan, he cooked when needed. 

"A dream?" Montparnasse asked curtly, returning to the stovetop and stirring the hash browns. 

"No, at least, I don't think so. She was wearing a hospital gown. You know the kind that don't close all the way in the back. And she had the most peaceful smile, almost like she was trying to tell me everything is going to be ok." 

Montparnasse scooted an egg onto a plate and set it in front of Jehan. "Huh." 

Montparnasse wasn't very good at expanding on Jehan's ideas, but he was still nonetheless a muse. Something about how he did things without ever explaining why he did them, it was a natural flow of thoughts that no one ever saw but Jehan wanted to explore. 

Jehan grabbed a fork and set to work on the eggs. The hash browns followed and then Montparnasse was sitting across from him, not eating. 

"Here." Jehan said, holding out a fork full of hash browns that were clinging weakly to the metal. 

"No, I'm fine." Montparnasse said. They did this a lot, Montparnasse making sure Jehan had everything he needed (but trying to be casual about it, muttering 'whatever's and 'it's nothing's under his breath) and ignoring his own needs. More often he would skip dinner to count whatever money he'd made or simply go out and doing more crime. 

Jehan insisted, and they ended up making more eggs and a side of toast. At some point Montparnasse pulled out a small baggie of weed, some of the best Babet had for sale. They ended up laying on their backs on the kitchen floor, covered in crumbs and leaning against cabinets. 

"So this woman..." Montparnasse asked somewhere down the line. 

"Hm?" Jehan hummed, surprised at Montparnasse's interest. The crook did tend to ask more questions when he was high, but he remained his own unanswering self when probed by an equally high Jehan. 

"Have you seen her before?" 

Jehan shook his head, then remembered that Montparnasse couldn't see him and said no aloud.

"That's funny, because whatshisname was saying how you can't make up faces in dreams, they have to be someone you've seen before. Some fun fact he'd learned or someshit" 

"Well, I'm pretty sure I've never seen this lady." Jehan said. 

"Pretty sure?" 

"Definitely sure. I mean, something feels different after I saw her, like a major shift in my life. It's like when you get your braces off or graduate from school-"

"I've done neither of those." Montparnasse pointed out. 

"Ok well anyway you can imagine the big shift. Like imagine you're in school for 2 decades and then suddenly you're not and you're out in the world, that's what it feels like. That big of a shift." 

Montparnasse mulled over the thought in his head. Finally he sat up, pulling Jehan to him by the arms and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. They both knew Jehan couldn't resist lazy morning sex, so their conversation was effectively ended.


End file.
